


Lotophagus

by blcwriter



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Jim Kirk's immune system, M/M, Mission shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 16:13:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4228413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blcwriter/pseuds/blcwriter





	Lotophagus

A comment ficlet inspired by [today's](http://community.livejournal.com/jim_and_bones/224508.html?thread=5963772#t5963772) slashy but otherwise (men barely kissing!) SFW man-on-man at [](http://jim-and-bones.livejournal.com/profile)[**jim_and_bones**](http://jim-and-bones.livejournal.com/)   (pics members locked).  As always, inspired by the brilliant [](http://emiliglia.livejournal.com/profile)[**emiliglia**](http://emiliglia.livejournal.com/) and her drool-worthy selection of pictures. 

With apologies to [Alfred, Lord Tennyson](http://www.bartleby.com/42/638.html).

\--

He's sleeping-- so warm, sunlight on closed eyes-- so very sleepy and a hand on his face-- and then hot breath and the bare brush of stubble, soft press of lips over his own, huge hands at the side of his jaw and an "are you ever gonna wake up? Damnit, Jim," soft in his ear...

He mutters-- shore leave, shouldn't have to get up-- gropes sleepy hands at the face near his own, the one whose breath is warm and bourbon-sweet in his face no matter what hour of day, even when he's not drinking 'cause Bones isn't like that, Jim knows him too well-- but it's calm and sunny and green here, the wind in the trees making a nice kind of music and he's so very tired, so weary of being captain all of the time. Why can't he just rest here for a while? It's nice as long as he knows Bones is around, Bones never leaves, not like everyone else, everything's good, he just wants to rest a while longer. Bones is saying something else, he doesn't sound happy, there's another "Damnit, Jim," in there, but the hands on the side of his face aren't angry, the breath over his forehead's not harsh but insistent and he's so very ... really, Bones should just lie down here with him and ...

\---

When he wakes, he's in Sickbay, and Bones' face is hardly relaxed. There's a memory of someplace warm, green and calm-- of a kiss, warm hands, Bones, of setting down cares for a while-- but that had to be some kind of dream. Always is, in the end.

"What happened?" he asks, pushing up to his elbows. His body feels like lead and the biobed beeps some kind of alarm, making Bones' eyes dart to some readout overhead.

"They said it was a _persimmon_ ," he growls, not making eye contact, but Bones never does when he's that pissed. Jim wasn't normally allergic to persimmons. "It was a psychotropic water-lily something-or-other as far as Spock and Sulu can tell..."

Jim nods, because it's a big goddamned universe. Of course what exists only in myth and poem on Earth would be real on some alien planet. It's just the way the universe works. Hell, maybe the people on this planet do come from [Djerba](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Lotos-Eaters). Now that he's awake and his dreams weren't real-- he'll go back to work. Do some research. _Is there any peace/ In ever climbing up the climbing wave?_ Not really-- not for Jim.

"So ..." he says, moving to sit further up. Bones pushes him back down into the bed, expression totally pissed.

"You've been in a coma for _days._ Lie the hell back down, you moron."

"But..."

Gentle hands cup the sides of his face, angry dark eyebrows furrowed together. "You're gonna lie there and get some real sleep, none of this drugged shit this time." And to seal his point, he plants his mouth over Jim's momentarily dumb lips and kisses him quiet, then crawls up alongside Jim's still-tired, weary limbs and barks at the plastic privacy curtains to turn opaque, 100%.  His arm is heavy over Jim's waist, a different weight than the one in his body.

"Antiseptic don' smell like asphodel," Jim mutters, and Bones tests his forehead for fever. "Go back to sleep, Jim," he shushes, his lips warm on Jim's cheek. And real-- so very real and yes, bourbon-sweet, coffee-sour too.

The biobed's beeping isn't quite music, but it lulls Jim all the same.


End file.
